HALLOWEEN
by SANDEFUR
Summary: Fifth season begins.  A Joan of Arcadia/Criminal Minds crossover.
1. Chapter 1

HALLOWEEN

by

SANDEFUR

Disclaimer: This is fanfiction just for fun. I have no claims.

To recap…

My third season was basically Joan's war against the mad Ryan Hunter and his scheme to orchestrate his own version of Armageddon. Joan wins, but in the process she has to mature as a person and grow spiritually. This leads to her choosing to continue with God even though he gives her the opportunity to retire from being his chosen instrument. Casualties in the third season include Ryan Hunter, Detective Carlisle and Glynis. Two major characters were introduced, Dr. John Hunter (Ryan's older brother) and John's son Dylan. Dr. Hunter turns out to be an ally to Joan against Ryan, and Dylan becomes the rebound boyfriend for Joan after her breakup with Adam. The Joan/Dylan relationship fails mostly due to interference from Ryan, but Joan continues to hold tender feelings for Dylan (and he still loves Joan). Those now in on Joan's secret include Dr. Hunter, Helen Girardi and the Friedman.

Fourth season. Joan is now being trained by a tutor-angel both physically and spiritually. God has granted her a higher level of abilities in which she can read the souls of others, is highly sensitive to the presence of evil and can deal with demons. (Joan has also chosen on occasion to use an ability from the other side, sexual charisma, when she sees the need to accomplish her goals.) Joan continues to struggle with: 'does the end justify the means'? Fourth season changes include Luke and Grace now married with a child (Annie, who sees Yah-Yah just as Joan did when she was little), Kevin out of his wheelchair and walking with a cane—he is now a writer in Hollywood and living with his girlfriend, Barbara Greyson (Dr. Hunter's stepdaughter). Also, Will and Helen have had a late-in-life child, Eleanor Theresa Girardi ("E. T." or "the little alien"). E.T. was conceived through demonic influence and this has 'tainted' her. As of yet, Joan is the only one aware that her baby sister is a sociopath, but all are aware Eleanor is a very different type of baby. Joan is now at a much higher level of work, dealing with demons, terrorists, criminals, etc; Homeland Security has become aware of her unusal nature, but do not know the details. The head of covert operations, Issac B. Dunn, seeks to have Joan working for him. Meanwhile, Joan suffered a tragic loss and that temporarily led to her resigning from God's service. As the fourth season ended, Joan rejoined God's service and she was in denial of her pregnant status…

And now the fifth season begins.

10-31-07/Wednesday, Halloween.

Joan Girardi sits on the porch swing taking an occasional swig of coffee as she makes an entry into her demonology notebook. She wants to get down this morning's lecture by her tutor-angel while it is still fresh in her mind. Joan checks her watch and realizes she will have to hurry if she is to make it to her first class on time. The class is 'Vocals', which has become her favorite of the new semester. This chance to stretch her singing talents has proved enjoyable and she owes it all to Friedman, who signed her up when he was helping her with registering for this semester's classes. At first she had been annoyed, but apparently her old friend knew her better than she did herself…

The sound of a car pulling up to the curb grabs Joan's attention. Parking in front of the white Ford pickup she inherited from Jimmy Tubbs is a long black limousine with government plates. Joan sighs heavily as she recognizes the limo as the one belonging to Issac Dunn. She has been expecting this for quite a while now. 'I. B.' said he would one day call on her for government service, and it seems that today is the day. Joan slips her notebook into her backpack and heads for the limo. At least no one in the family is witnessing this. Dad has already left for work, and Mom is with E.T. in the garage-slash-art studio. A familiar man exits the front passenger side of the car. He is Agent Brown, I.B.'s personal gopher and bodyguard. He nods politely at Joan's approach…

"Miss Girardi, Director Dunn sends his regards and this message: 'Your nation calls'."

Joan shakes her head, determined to send back to the rather scary head of Homeland Security's covert operations the message to eff off. "Tell I.B. he can kiss my…"

Joan pauses as she notices the driver of the limo, who seems familiar… The chauffeur winks and Joan's memory is jogged. The first time Joan met Rich Lady God she was in the back of a chauffeur driven Rolls Royce. It is the same chauffeur.

"He can what?" Agent Brown asks with a rather bemused expression on his face.

"Uh, exactly where would we be going?"

"Quantico. Director Dunn wants you to consult with the F.B.I.'s Behavorial Analysis Unit. You should be home by this evening." Brown says as he opens the back door for her.

Joan notices Chauffeur God make a slight nod of his head and she obediently enters the car. Moments later they are on their way. The limousine quickly reaches the interstate, and with red and blue lights flashing, the large vehicle is soon exceeding the posted speed limit as they head for Virginia. Joan looks about the back of the roomy, very comfortable car. There is a full bar (much too early to drink even if she hadn't sworn off alcohol), there is a thermos of custom blended coffee and fresh pastries that look delicious (too bad she just finished breakfast), and there are even fresh cut flowers (but they only remind Joan of a funeral car). Joan decides to use the car's phone since high security shielding blocks normal cell phone use. Joan has no doubt I.B. has the ultra secure phone as bugged as the rest of the car.

"Hello?" Helen Girardi says on her cell phone.

"Hey Mom, it's me. I wanted to let you know I may be pretty late getting home tonight, so don't worry."

"Oh, is this an…"

"Mom, I really can't talk freely at the moment."

Helen hesitates, knowing Joan's secret and that she might be on an assignment for God. "Okay… Do you know how late you will be?"

"Not a clue. Make an excuse for me to Dad, like…I went to a Halloween party."

"Alright Joan, and please be careful."

"Always. Love you." Joan says as she disconnects, hearing her baby sister starting to cry in the background.

Next, Joan sends a text message to a friend in Vocals class, apologizing for not being able to be there for their scheduled duet. Since there is a long drive ahead, Joan completes her notes on her tutor's morning lecture, uses her laptop to work on a report due in sociology class on Friday and then relaxes. Less than two hours later, just as they are approaching the F.B.I. academy, Agent Brown hands Joan an I.D. badge that identifies her as J.A. Girardi, consultant with Homeland Security. It has a surprisingly good photo of herself and carries an impressively high clearance level.

After being passed through the main gate by marine guards, the limo parks in a V.I.P. lot next to the main entrance of the building. Joan exits and gratefully stretches her legs, but a moment later she ducks down behind the car. Agent Brown glances down at her, once again looking bemused.

"A problem, Miss Girardi?"

"Yes. See that middle-aged woman with the red hair just leaving the building?"

"I do."

"It would fall into the bad thing category if she spotted me. Make sure she doesn't come close."

Agent Brown hesitates. His assignment is to deliver this unusual young woman to the F.B.I., but she carries a security clearance even higher than his own. Does he dare ignore her warning? Brown calls out to the driver…

"Watch her."

The red-head is approaching the parking lot and Brown goes to position himself where he can block the unknown woman should she approach the limo. Meanwhile, Joan softly speaks to Chauffeur God…

"Okay, we only have a few moments. What's the deal here, because I do not want to be I.B.'s lapdog. I get enough assignments working for you without adding Director Dunn to the list."

"Mr. Dunn is determined to have you in his service and he has made a considerable effort to lure you into this first assignment."

"I figured, what with him sending his own personal limo and providing a security clearance only slightly lower than his own. But why here? The B.A.U. are the F.B.I.'s profilers. They deal mostly with serial killers."

"Mr. Dunn is counting on appealing to what he sees as your greatest weakness: your do-gooder nature."

"So you want me to help?"

"Think of this as an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, Joan."

Before Joan can respond, Agent Brown returns and Joan comes out of hiding…

"All clear, Miss Girardi. This way." (Joan follows Brown to the front entrance. He asks,) "Who was that woman?"

"Charlotte Bloom, a well known psychic. We've met before, and it would be beyond awkward to try to explain why I am here today."

Brown doesn't comment as he escorts Joan inside. They are met by a heavy set but very cute young blonde…

"Miss Girardi? Hi, I'm Penelope Garcia and I'll be escorting you to your meeting with Dr. Reid." Garcia says as Joan reads her I.D. badge, which identifies her as a technician.

"Goodbye, Miss Girardi." Brown says as he turns away.

"Hey, whoa. You're leaving? How am I suppose to get home?"

"The F.B.I. will provide your transportation."

Brown walks away while Garcia indicates for Joan to follow. As they travel, Joan is impressed by the modern facility that is filled with intelligent, purpose driven people. They pass through the glass doors that indicate this part of the building is the Behavorial Analysis Unit.

"Dr. Reid is waiting for you in the conference room."

"He's 'Doctor Reid'? Let me guess, he's a grey haired old fart who has been doing this forever?"

Garcia chuckles. "Not exactly."

They enter the conference room and Joan sees why Garcia was amused by her guess. The waiting man is tall, very thin and in his twenties. Everything about him proclaims: geeky super genius.

"S.S.A. Dr. Spencer Reid, this is Homeland Security consultant, J. A. Girardi."

"Thank you for coming in Miss Girardi." Reid says in a tired voice.

Garcia says, "I have to get back to my computer before she starts to miss me."

"Thank you, Garcia." Reid automatically says.

As Garcia exits, Joan inquires, "That was a lot of letters before your name. I'm a little weak in my governmentese."

"S.S.A. stands for Supervisory Special Agent."

"Wow, at your age and with a doctorate to boot? You must be really smart."

"Actually I have three doctorates as well as several other lesser degrees, Miss Girardi." Reid says with a brief smile, and then blushes because he thinks he sounds like he is bragging.

Joan notices his social awkwardness. "Please call me Joan. Do you prefer Spencer or Spence?"

"Most people just call me Reid."

"Yeah, I've noticed the federal preference for anything but first names. I'm a little more casual, Spencer. So, how many days have you spent interviewing psychics?"

"How...? Oh, is this an example of your own psychic abilities Miss...er, Joan?"

"I don't apply the term psychic to myself. But, I did see Charlotte Bloom leaving the building, and you look like you haven't had much sleep in the last few days. One plus one is two."

Reid smiles. "Of course. If I weren't so exhausted, I would have seen that. The Behavorial Analysis Unit is working a case that may overlap with Homeland Security's rather ill-defined parameters. On their insistence, we have spent two days interviewing psychics to see if they can be of any help."

"By 'we' I'd guess you mean you."

"Yes. The team is a little short handed since our most experienced profiler, Jason Gideon, has recently retired. His replacement, David Rossi, isn't due to arrive for a few more days." (Footnote.)

"And B.A.U. has never worked with psychics before?"

"No, never. If you don't consider yourself a psychic Joan, what term do you use? Because so far, you are batting a thousand."

"Maybe I just read the board of life better than most."

Reid smiles. "I like that. A clever turn of phrase."

"I give credit to my brother. You kind of remind me of him."

"A compliment?"

"Not always, but this time it is." Joan says with a smile of her own and notes Reid's renewed blush. She decides Dr. Spencer Reid is kinda cute - in a geeky, sweater vest wearing sort of way. It occurs to Joan that this is the first time she has thought this about a guy since Jimmy died.

"I'm confused...Joan. Homeland security added your name to our list of potential psychics at the last moment. If you're not actually a psychic, what are you doing here?"

"My I.D. says I'm a consultant, and I guess you could call me an outside of the box thinker. I'm not sure I can be of any use to you, but I'm willing to give it a try. That is, after you turn off the recording device."

"What do you..." Reid pauses as he sees Joan's expression. He announces to the room, "Okay Garcia, turn off the camera."

"Okay, Reid." Garcia's voice says from seemingly thin air.

"Satisfied?"

Joan shakes her head. "All of them, right now or I walk. I don't think Director Dunn would be too happy with that outcome."

Reid has a quick phone conversation with Garcia. "Okay, they're all off. You have my word."

Joan nods, knowing he is telling the truth. "What am I here to see?"

"Those three boxes on the table behind you."

Joan looks toward the table and sighs heavily, as if she were distressed about something. She leaves her backpack on a chair by the door and sits at the table. From behind her Reid adds...

"Each box contains three items sealed in evidence bags. Please don't open the bags. Otherwise you may examine them as much as you like."

Sitting at the table, with her back to Reid, Joan begins to open the boxes and remove the items inside. Joan immediately detects the stench of demonic energy and the type. It takes only a few minutes for Joan to gather all of the information she can, but she waits awhile longer to give Reid time to finish searching her backpack. Joan coughs to let Reid know she is done. He hastily joins her at the table.

"Already finished?" Reid asks.

"That depends. Are you done spying on me?"

Reid blushes furiously. "Joan, I am very sorry..."

Joan holds up a hand. "Hey, I get it. A stranger is dumped on you with a security clearance so high, you can't access my official file. I assume you had you I.T. tech run a google search on me?"

"Yes, but there wasn't much beyond your involvement in the Ryan Hunter affair. Homeland Security had that case, but they sought our help in profiling the unsub."

"Unsub?"

"Unknown Subject. Our profile was astonishingly inaccurate. If I may ask, how did you figure out it was Ryan Hunter who was behind the series of religious attacks in Arcadia?"

"Simple. He told me."

"Oh."

Joan chuckles. "You sound so disappointed. Okay, just for fun, profile me."

Reid instantly replies, "From the contents of your backpack you are a college student, pre-law, intelligent but not with spectacular grades. The coded notebook is odd, especially since I saw no discernable pattern. I have a great deal of experience with codes, but this one baffles me."

Joan smiles. The code is written and read spiritually, and only she can read it. "I'd tell you what it says, but then I'd have to kill you."

Reid pauses, looking nervous. Joan realizes his social awkwardness extends to humor...

"That was a joke, Spencer. Please continue."

"I see. Well, you are obviously an attractive young woman who wears an engagement ring, but you use no make-up and are dressed in somber clothing. You are in mourning for a lost fiance."

Joan gulps hard and her eyes glisten as this 'just for fun' exercise has gotten too serious. "Wow, that was cold."

Reid also gulps hard and guiltily says, "Joan, I am so sorry. Sometimes I intellectualize a situation so much, I forget the feelings of the people involved."

Joan sighs. "Well, you were right. I lost my fiance, a Miami cop named Jimmy Tubbs, last July when he was killed in the line of duty. Then on September first, while on a plane to Miami to settle his estate...I had a miscarriage."

Reid stares at the floor feeling a tidal wave of sympathy but unable to come up with the appropriate words. Joan knows how bad he feels for her and decides to let him off the 'guilt hook'.

"Okay, let's get to work. I take it you are looking for a serial killer, one who kills multiple victims and considering the date, he strikes on Halloween night. I've arranged the boxes in the order the crimes were committed, which I assume was one of the tests you were giving the psychics?"

"How do you know this?"

Joan ignores the question. "All of the boxes contained identical Model 92L Berettas with sequential serial numbers. Box one had a hunting knife, but two and three had camper's hatchets. Box one had a four inch house painter's brush, Box two a two inch painter's trim brush and Box three a tapered one inch artist's brush. All three brushes are heavily bloodstained. It's an obvious progression. The guns proved satisfactory in all three crimes, the hunting knife was not properly effective for your 'Unsub' and he switched to hatchets. The brushes show he has been painting something in the victims' blood, but he has not yet found a brush that meets his needs. I'll guess he was painting satanic symbols, and...were there exactly thirteen victims at each crime?"

"You must be psychic. How else could you know all of this?"

"The Model 92L Beretta is the standard sidearm for the Arcadia Police. My Dad carries one, and it has a 13 round clip."

"Yes, but the Unsub might have had a round in the chamber for a total of 14. He might have had extra clips or not have fired all of his rounds."

"The guns were left as they were found, with the chamber slide blown back and the empty clip exposed. There are no extra clips with the gun. Besides, satanic symbols and the number 13 go perfectly with the date. I don't suppose black cats and witches' brooms were involved?"

Reid smiles. "No, but you were right about the satanic symbol. A pentacle was found painted in the victims' blood at each crime scene. A pentacle is a circled pentagram with the point facing down. More properly, a pentacle should be double circled, but apparently the Unsub doesn't know that. Interestingly, the pentagram was not considered a satanic symbol until modern times. A little over a hundred years ago..."

"Spencer, stay on topic. Do you suspect a satanic cult?"

"No, satanic cults that sacrifice humans is an urban myth. When someone dies by the hand of a person involved in satanism, it most often falls into two categories. The first is usually teenaged boys who use the symbolism as an act of rebellion. Death only occurs when when their acts of vandalism and random violence get out of hand. The second type is an individual who has already reached a level of psychotic violence. He turns to satanism in order to ease his conscience with the old axiom: 'the devil made me do it'. But in fact, there has never been a proven case of ritual sacrifice by a satanic cult in this country."

"And from that you conclude satanic cults don't exist? You know, just for a topic to think about at a later time, a true satanic cult would be completely secretive. They wouldn't decorate their ritual sacrifices with bizarre symbols of dubious origins. Ninety nine percent of the time you would never find the bodies because the cultists are intelligent, successful people who know how to get away with what they are doing."

"Joan, you sound like you believe these cults are real."

"They are real, and they exist all over the world. Think of how many people go missing, especially kids, who are never heard from again. Look for the pattern and eventually you will see it."

Spencer Reid looks away, unable to meet Joan's steady, confident gaze. What sort of consultant is this? Her statements defy all known scientific evidence, and yet...he has seen some truly bizarre things since his time with the F.B.I. Reid realizes Joan is a remarkably persuasive, almost manipulative young woman, but even so, he makes a mental note to look for that pattern...

"Tell me about the crimes." Joan says.

"On October thirty-first, 2004 in San Antonio Texas, the Jabert School of Dance was attacked. A Halloween party for the students, mostly young girls taking ballet, was invaded by a man dressed in black, wearing a ski mask and armed with one of the Barettas. He immediately begins shooting and kills all eleven of the adults present."

"That much noise must have resulted in a lot of calls to 9-1-1."

"No, the Unsub uses a silencer, which he always takes with him, as well as a jamming device that blocks all cell phones. The Unsub orders the children to the far wall and then uses the hunting knife to slash the genitals of his victims. The four inch painter's brush is then used to draw a very crude pentacle on a wall. Finished, he shoots the two oldest children and exits, dropping the gun outside."

"Similar scenarios at the other crimes scenes?"

"Yes, 2005 in Albany New York at the University of Hudson River, a sorority party featuring an all night scary movie marathon is invaded by the same Unsub. He kills 13 of the 16 young women in attendance - only the three freshman present are spared. A somewhat better pentacle is drawn on a wall using the two inch trim brush. The blood he gets from his victims after chopping their breasts with the first hatchet."

"Gross. And last year?"

"Tacoma Washington. The Denmark Avenue Middle School's annual Halloween party is attacked by the same man, using the same methods. He kills 13 0f the 14 chaperones, sparing only the youngest one. This time he uses the artist's brush to paint a much better pentacle."

"He always spares the youngest ones present."

"We believe that his psychosis began during a childhood incident, and that is why he is reluctant to kill anyone younger than he must in order to meet his 'quota' of 13."

"And yet he always picks schools. More likely he is trying to cause the most long term psychological damage he can. I can see why Homeland Security has intruded into your case. This level of lethal violence approaches terrorism. And that brings us to this year - tonight. Any leads?"

"Yes, the Unsub has a pattern that we have only recently realized. The edged weapon he uses is alway bought in the city where he will strike next year. The hunting knife used in San Antonio was purchased in Albany. The hatchet used in Albany was bought in Tacoma and the hatchet from that crime was bought in Atlanta, which is where the rest of the B.A.U. team is at. Problem is, there are hundreds of Halloween parties scheduled for tonight in the Atlanta area, and we can't cover them all. Local authorities are reluctant to cause a city wide panic, even though we are certain that city is the next target."

"You think the Unsub is spelling out 'satan' with his choice of cities?"

"Exactly. 'S' for San Antonio, 'A' for Albany, 'T' for Tacoma and now 'A' for Atlanta."

Joan sighs. How can she explain what she knows? In addition to her knowledge of demonology, most of the information she has about this case is due to a very chatty ghost that has attached herself to the evidence in these crimes. Reid is barely able to consider the remote possibility of psychic phenomenon. There's no way he will listen to tales of demons and very informative ghosts. Still, she must try...

"Spencer, the edged weapons clue is what they call a red herring in mystery books. It's a deliberate mislead by the Unsub. Tonight's attack will not be in Atlanta. It will take place in my hometown at Arcadia High."

To Be Continued.

(Footnote: For the purposes of this crossover, I have played fast and loose with the timeline. Fans of Criminal Minds will recall that Agent David Rossi (Joe Mantengna) joined the B.A.U. Halloween week of 2007. This alteration keeps me from having to come up with an explantion as to why Agent Rossi looks exactly like Joan's father.)


	2. Chapter 2

HALLOWEEN TWO

It took awhile for Joan to get Reid to take her seriously…

"But how can you KNOW which school the Unsub will attack tonight?"

"Uh, psychic revelation?"

"You said you weren't a psychic."

"I said I didn't refer to myself as a psychic. It's not my preferred term, but I don't know how else to describe it."

"But how can you be so specific? I've heard of psychics having generalized impressions of things to come, but the very city and school? And how do you know the attack won't be in Atlanta? The Unsub's pattern so far has been consistent. He bought the hatchet used in the Tacoma attack in Atlanta, so that should mean Atlanta is his next target. Part of his pattern of spelling out 'satan' with the cities he attacks."

The ghost shouts at Joan, "Tell him the killer's name! That will convince him."

Finding it hard to deal with two conversations at the same time, Joan holds up a hand in frustration. Reid pauses, wondering why Joan is giving him a 'shush' gesture. Joan realizes her mistake and lowers the hand.

"The 'A' in Arcadia will suit your 'satan' spelling, and I told you, the Unsub was using the purchases of the edged weapons as a red herring in case you started to figure him out. Besides, the Unsub isn't just spelling satan."

"What do you mean?"

" Jabert School of Dance, University of Hudson River, Denmark Avenue Middle School, Arcadia High…"

"Judas! Another honored name amongst satanic worshippers. Why didn't I see that? Joan, my I.Q. is 187, but I missed this clue. Just how high is your own I.Q.?"

Joan hesitates, giving a quick glance to the ghost who supplied her with the clue. "Spencer, that's just more of the…psychic stuff. So, will you spread the alert to the Arcadia authorities? Remember, you have to keep my name out of it for security reasons."

Spencer Reid also hesitates a moment before nodding. "I'll pass this information on to my team leader in Atlanta, just in case you are wrong about in which city the attack will take place. They can begin concentrating on schools that start with an 'A'. And, I'll send the Arcadia authorities an alert of a possible risk to tonight's Halloween party at Arcadia High. You are sure there's a party there tonight?"

Joan nods. "They hold one every year. The last one I attended a man slipped by security and almost strangled a student to death."

"Then I definitely see the need to strengthen security there. I'll be right back."

Joan breathes a sigh of relief as Reid leaves the conference room and heads for the tech center to send alerts to law enforcement in Atlanta and Arcadia. There was no point in mentioning that the student who was nearly strangled to death at Arcadia High two years ago was her.

"Why didn't you tell him the killer's name?" the ghost of Hester Jabert angrily asks. She and her sister were two of the first victims of the Unsub, and she has refused to go into the light until her killer is caught.

Joan sighs. "Look, I appreciate your help but you have to trust that I know what I'm doing."

"But I told you his name, Dennis Park, an ex-army ranger. He is in Arcadia right now, staying at the Wentworth Hotel – Room 751. Tell the odd man what I've said and no more innocent people will have to die. I don't want to witness another massacre by the Halloween Killer."

"It's not that simple. I have my own instructions in this matter, and I have to deal with more than just this one man."

"Is this about the demons? "

Joan nods. "I detected the stench of two of them attached to this evidence. One is a very weak amnesia demon. It is the one Dennis Park originally surrendered his soul to."

Hester shrugs. "I know that. I know this man Park's soul better than my own. He accidentily killed a child while serving in Iraq, and I know it happened on October thirty first. I know he had a mental breakdown because of that tragedy and was discharged from the army because of it."

"Didn't he get counseling?"

"The V.A. tried, but Park was unable to come to grips with what he did."

Joan sighs. "That must be when the amnesia demon came whispering in his ear that it could remove the burden that was on his soul. I could almost feel sorry for the guy, except for the fact he knowingly sold his soul to a demon. That opened him up to all sorts of added demonic influences."

"I know little of demons, but don't they jealously guard their 'property'? That is, the souls they have stolen?"

"Normally, but as I said, an amnesia demon is very weak. It would curry favor with a more powerful demon for its' own safety from other demons. The second demon is one of the most powerful of all kinds – a death demon, one of the 'princes' of the devil's kingdom. Such a being normally holds sway over large regions, and doesn't bother with individuals. Creatures like these specialize in large scale violence like gang feuds, riots and even wars."

"Then why does it occupy Dennis Park every Halloween?"

"All demons are sensation junkies. Influencing mass murder isn't the same as committing it yourself. So, once a year the amnesia demon surrenders this man on a short term lease. From dusk to dawn on Halloween, Dennis Park is under the full control of a death demon. With Park's army training, it is a deadly combination."

"All the more reason to capture Park before the death demon takes him over at nightfall."

"Which is why I have to get to Dennis Park before the authorities. Because of the amnesia demon, Park has no idea about the monstrous things he has been doing. You can bet the demon won't allow any evidence to be in Park's possession until it is time for the crime, and the man would easily pass any lie detector test. I have to drive out the amnesia demon before nightfall. That way the death demon will have no way of entering Park. After that, the authorities can take their time in building a case against the man."

"Once the amnesia demon is gone, won't Park remember his crimes? I want him to know what he did to me, my sister and all of the others."

"Sorry, no. When I drive the amnesia demon out, the real memories will go with it. The only way to restore his memories would be if the demon voluntarily left Park's body, which it would never do. The other side is very legalistic when it comes to honoring spiritual contracts…"

Meanwhile, in the tech center…

"Okay Hotch, I'll take care of alerting the Arcadia authorities also… How reliable? Who knows? I find Homeland Security's consultant to be a little odd, but then again she is some sort of psychic. I'm sure she believes what she is saying, and…I think I do too."

After perfunctory farewells, Reid begins to dial the police in Arcadia when Garcia calls his attention to a monitor…

"Reid, I'm not sure you should put much faith into your consultant. Look how she's talking to herself."

Reid frowns at the image. "Garcia, I told you to give Miss Girardi her privacy."

"You said I wasn't to record anything in that room. I'm not. This is a live feed with the sound off. Nothing is being recorded. Want to listen in?"

Reid hesitates as he sees Joan in what appears to be a one-sided conversation. It would be interesting to know what a psychic says to herself…

"No, I gave my word. Now turn that off."

Garcia complies, but shakes her head disapprovingly. "Psychics in the B.A.U.? I never thought I would see this day. At least Homeland Security could have sent us a sane one."

"Miss Girardi does have a history of problems that needed counseling, but that doesn't detract from the help she has already given us. Still, I'll keep in mind that she might be a little bit…"

"Crazy?"

"Not my personal choice of terminology, but I'll let it stand. Now where was I?"

"Calling the Arcadia authorities."

"Right. I'll begin with the local sheriff…" Reid says as he decides at that moment to make it a low level warning. What was he thinking - listening to a psychic consultant from those fanatics at Homeland Security? He just hopes he hasn't made a fool of himself with Aaron Hotchner, his team leader.

X X X X X

Getting back to Arcadia turned out to be a lot harder than getting to Quantico. It was lunch time and Reid insisted on paying for a nice meal with Joan. Now back in her presence, the young genius feels that sense of trust he had before as well as his distinct interest in Joan as a woman. Unfortunately, Joan seems completely distracted during the meal. For Joan it is a time of trying to be polite while being concerned about the time and being distracted by Hester Jabert's ghost constant criticism of how she was handling this case. After lunch, Reid got updates from Atlanta and Arcadia, which he shared with Joan. She was distressed when she perceived how low of a priority Reid had made the Arcadia warning, but was in no position to insist on a stronger wording.

Reid insisted on being the one to drive Joan home, but even that turned out to be an event to endure. Reid is a nervous driver who travels just a notch under the posted speed limit at all times. Joan estimates it will take nearly an hour longer to get home than it took to get to Quantico. Still, she isn't worried as there will still be plenty of time for her to deal with Dennis Park before sundown. In the meantime she has to listen to Spencer Reid as he has suddenly decided to become chatty about his life, his interests, his experiences in the F.B.I., etc; Normally Joan would find all of this interesting as she has to admit to a growing fondness for the young man, but Hester Jabert keeps popping in and out of the government SUV with updates on Park. ("Still napping, and you were right - he hasn't picked up his 'murder kit' yet.") If only the talkative ghost would give her a moment's peace...

"Joan, I'm sorry the trip has taken so long, but we're getting close now."

"No problem Spencer, as long as there are no more delays."

"Oh. Well actually, I was hoping...that is, I planned to ask you if we, uh after we get to Arcadia, could...get a cup of coffee together?"

Joan thinks, 'O-M-G, he's really interested in me! How did I miss this'? Of course the answer is the never ending distraction of the ghost of Hester Jabert, who has again popped into the SUV with yet another update - Park is waking up from his nap. Joan realizes that Hester's non-stop chattiness is probably what kept all of those psychics from gleaning any information from the evidence they were handling. The annoying ghost won't shut up!

"Uh Joan...did you hear me?"

Joan nods. "Yes Spencer, an invitation for coffee - first date style. I was trying to think of an appropriate response."

Reid sighs. "Meaning, a kind way of turning me down."

Joan hesitates. Spencer Reid, despite his towering intellect, numerous degrees and well-paying job, is spectacularly unsuccessful with women. Joan is aware that he has his own list of personal isssues, but basically Spencer is a really good guy, and she doesn't want to damage the tiny shred of confidence he has left with women...

"Spencer, I think one of the reasons you're asking me out is that you know I'm still in mourning. It is an acceptable, ego-soothing excuse for a turn down. It also makes me wonder if you are truly interested in me since you are obviously expecting a rejection. What am I, practice?"

"No, no, of course not... Well, maybe - just a little. My friend Morgan, who has been coaching me in how to improve my approach to women, says I need to practice more at asking them out. I haven't been doing that much because as you hint, it is a bit ego deflating. But Joan, I mostly asked you out because I find you so fascinating, so kind and...very, very attractive. I realize the timing is bad, but I had to try."

Joan smiles, as even Hester Jabert has stopped talking while listening to this conversation. (She comments, "He's a little odd, but nice. Why not give him a try?") Now that her distraction has eased off, Joan can read Spencer clearly. The attraction is real, although mixed with a healthy dose of suspicion about her so-called psychic abilities.

"Spencer, I appreciate the invitation. It's a nice ego boost for me considering I haven't worn make-up or tried to be attractive to the opposite sex since Jimmy died. And you're right, the timing is bad. I'm not sure how long I'm suppose to mourn, but it does feel too soon."

"Joan, I'm sorry for being so insensitive."

"Let me finish. I don't know how long I will be in mourning, but I do know that at some point I will start dating again. I like you Spencer, and when that time to start again arrives, and if you're available and still interested, I'd like to go out with you."

"Really?" Reid asks with a smile.

Joan shyly smiles back. She knows it is true. No matter how hard it is to face, she will have to get on with her life, including dating. When that time comes, she will want to avoid anyone who reminds her of her lost love, and there is no one more 'unJimmy-like' than Spencer Reid.

"Maybe we should exchange contact info?"

Before Reid can respond, the ghost of Hester Jabert screams: "Look out!"

Of course Reid doesn't hear the warning, and before Joan can repeat it, the black SUV slams into a deer crossing the highway. Travelling at a mile per minute, the heavy government car lifts the instantly killed deer high into the air and it slams into the windshield. The SUV careens off the road, hits a ditch and flips twice in the air. The vehicle comes to rest near a sign that reads: Welcome To Hogan County...

X X X X X

"Follow the light, Joan."

Joan groans with pain as she recognizes the voice of Nigerian Doctor God. Joan sighs and blinks against the light being shone into her eyes.

"How bad is it this time?"

"A mild concussion with numerous bruises. You should rest, but you will have a full recovery."

"How is Spencer?"

"Also badly bruised, but otherwise unharmed. He is waiting in the hallway to speak with you."

"And my parents?"

"As you are now an adult and were not in any danger, the option to call them was left up to you."

"Good. What time is it?"

"Nearly eight o'clock."

Joan groans again. "Oh crap. The dance at the school has already started, and the death demon will be in the Unsub by now. I have to get to Arcadia High..."

Joan sways a bit as she stands.

"Dizzy?"

"A little, but it's passing. I have to get more protection to the school before it's too late. I've totally screwed this up."

"You're doing your best, Joan and perhaps you should stay here and leave the matter to the authorities. This demon is far more powerful than any you have faced before. The risk..."

"Is one I have to take. With the death demon guiding him, Dennis Park will be able to kill anyone who stands in his way - including the small contingent of cops and school guards at the dance. I have to go."

"As you will, Joan. But remember, two birds with one stone." Doctor God says as he exits with a backhand wave.

Joan finds her cell phone and calls the one man she hoped she would never have to call. The only one who can muster enough force to possibly stop the Unsub and prevent a massacre.

"I know I.B. that he's only one man, but trust me, this guy is super dangerous. Only a massive concentration of firepower by the local authorities can possibly save the people at Arcadia High. His name is Dennis Park, an ex-army ranger. He received a medical discharge after he broke down during his time in Iraq. He accidentily killed a child over there on an October thirty-first, and that anniversary is the trigger that sets him off... You will? Thanks I.B." Joan says as she disconnects, not feeling the least bit guilty about the blend of truth and lies she had to tell Director Dunn to get him to spring into action.

Joan turns back toward the door and sees an aghast Spencer Reid...

"You heard?"

"Yes, it seems you lied to me, Miss Girardi. You know far more than you let on - far more than any mere psychic could possibly know."

What could she say after he heard that conversation? Joan shrugs.

Reid continues, "I should have realized this before now. Your typical Homeland Security paranoia about listening devices should have tipped me off. You were never at Quantico to help the B.A.U. You were there to spy on our efforts so that you could combine our discoveries with what Homeland Security already knew. You were just there to steal CREDIT for solving the case."

Joan winces at the look of disgust on Reid's face. Sometimes fate paints you into a corner. "Grow up, Spencer. Every department has to look to itself when funding time comes. A high profile case like the Halloween Killer will ensure full funding for Homeland Security from Congress."

The look of disgust on Reid's face grows. "By waiting you have endangered the lives of the people at this...Arcadia High."

"I didn't anticipate our accident."

"You can't anticipate an act of God."

"Whatever. I'm not at liberty to discuss my methods, and I have to get to Arcadia High right away."

Joan heads for the door, but the sudden movement causes a renewed dizziness. Reid steadies her as Joan sways...

"I guess I better go with you, Miss Girardi."

"I liked it better when you called me Joan."

"I liked you better...when I called you Joan."

X X X X X

On the cab ride to Arcadia High, Joan tries to center herself for the battle ahead. She has in her bag the silver cross personally given to her by God. She will need that and all the faith she can muster to face down a death demon. Hester Jabert's ghost keeps her updated on Park's actions. He has his 'murder kit' with him now, and he is approaching Arcadia High in disguise...

Joan feels a brief moment of sympathy for Park. Originally a decent guy, he just couldn't deal with what he had done - even if it were an accident of war. But Joan's sympathy is short lived. The man, of his own free will, chose to listen to the comforting lies of a demon who offered 'help'. Now, he leads an oblivious life of civilian comfort while the pesky amnesia demon has him sampling all sorts of forbidden thrills for its' sensation junkie nature. Bad enough, but the 'Halloween Killer' is the result of not caring enough about others and their fates in comparison to his own comfort. Now 39 people have died, and if Joan is unsuccessful, another 13 will be added to that total.

They arrive at Arcadia High, and Reid's F.B.I. credentials get them waved through the police lines. Everywheres cops, sheriff's deputies and even school guards are rushing about trying to secure the campus. SWAT snipers are selecting their spots and emergency medical teams are on standby. Reid and Joan are immediately approached by Sheriff Rakowski himself. As Reid once again displays his credentials, Joan lingers in the background trying not to be noticed.

"S.S.A. Dr. Spencer Reid, F.B.I. Progress report, Sheriff?"

Rakowski replies, "We have just completed encircling the school, and the gym where the Halloween dance is being held is under total lock down. The students and chaperones are safe, but it is still early and we have more students in costume showing up at every moment. We're having to check everyone, and it's much too dangerous to try to send these people home. What's going on here, Agent Reid? We received our first ever Red Alert from Homeland Security and responded, but we were expecting a small army of terrorists. Are this many cops and deputies really here because of only one man?"

Reid, not knowing why but still trusting Joan, replies. "He's known in the media as the Halloween Killer, and he is armed and extremely dangerous. He has killed 39 people that we know of. Your men should approach him with great caution. The man is army ranger trained and won't hesitate to try to shoot his way out if cornered."

"Yeah, Homeland Security included his official army photo and a very brief background. Apparently he is always masked when he commits these attacks, but so is everyone else. I don't want to panic my people into accidentily shooting an innocent civilian, but if this guy is as dangerous as you say..."

"You can't let your men put themselves at risk. Joan, what do you think...?"

But Joan Girardi is gone. Alerted by the ever vigilant ghost, Joan is already rushing for the area of the school's quad. Park is already through the police lines, and he is disguised as a school guard. As Reid wonders what happened to his 'consultant', Rakowski's radio blares out...

"Sheriff, we have him cornered in the quad."

"Who is reporting?" Rakowski responds.

"Sgt. Steiner, sir. I'll leave the mike open so you can hear." (A brief pause before Steiner calls out...) "You there, Dennis Park! Sheriff's department! Stop or we'll shoot!"

"He has a gun!" another deputy calls out.

Steiner adds, "Put it down, Park. There are six of us and only one of you. How do you think this will end?"

A strange voice hisses, "I have 13 bullets in this gun. That's seven more than I need."

Suddenly the sound of six rapid-fire gunshots fill the air. The gunfire comes so quickly, it is difficult to determine there are seperate shots. There is a brief moment of silence before the strange voice is heard again...

"That's six. Send me seven more."

To Be Continued.


	3. Chapter 3

HALLOWEEN THREE

Joan arrives at the Arcadia High quad before any of the cops and gasps in horror at what she sees. Three sheriff's deputies, two city police officers and a school guard are all dead, each shot once in the head. Joan recognizes both cops and the guard from when she was a student here. An overwhelming sense of guilt envelopes Joan as she blames herself for not stopping this. Even worse, Joan notices that four of the guns belonging to the fallen officers have been taken. The death demon occupying Dennis Park realizes this will be its' last chance to use that body for its' fun and games, so the quota of 13 is off the table. It plans on a bloodbath.

Joan hears a noise and turns… "Ms Lishack? What are you doing here?"

Elaine Lishack comes closer, seemingly undisturbed by the grisly scene. "I'm a chaperone at the dance and two of our students have gone missing. I came to look for them. But what are you doing here, Joan? Nostalgia for the old school?"

"I…saw all the cops and came to see what was going on."

"And the police just let you through their lines? Oh, of course they did. Being the town hero and police chief's daughter must come in handy."

Joan sighs. She doesn't need her ability to read people to detect the sarcasm in Lishack's voice. Issac Dunn filled Joan in on Lishack's colorful and secretive past.

"Let's cut the crap Ms Lishack, or should I say Agent 66?"

Lishack smiles and retrieves one of the remaining pistols from the fallen cops. She looks quite at home with a gun in her hand…

"And how is I.B. these days?"

"Creepy and borderline psychotic."

"He wasn't always that way. Nine-eleven changed him so much. Before that he was extremely dedicated but still fairly reasonable. Not to mention a more than adequate lover."

"You and I.B.? Eww."

"Don't judge. Back then he was younger and a lot hotter." (Lishack sighs.) "But then, so was I. It didn't end well between us."

"Which might explain why I.B. has it in for you, 66."

Lishack frowns. "Joan, I like you, but you have to accept that Agent 66 is gone forever. I must consider the safety of my daughter. So, use that name again and I will kill you."

Before Joan can respond, all of the lights at Arcadia High go out.

"The killer has cut the power." Lishack comments in the darkness.

"I have to find him before he can kill again."

A noise behind them causes Lishack to spin about, gun at the ready. "Freeze!"

"D-Don't shoot Ms Lishack, it's me." pleads the frightened voice of someone in a skeleton costume.

"Mr. Beaumont?"

The 'skeleton' comes closer, removing his mask.

"Noah Beaumont?" Joan asks.

"Hey Joan."

The two exchange a brief hug.

"Wow Noah, impressive growth spurt. The last time we saw each other you were two inches shorter than me. Now you must be nearly four inches taller."

"I was a freshman then. Now I'm a junior." Noah proudly replies.

Lishack asks, "Mr. Beaumont, you're one of my two missing students. Why did you leave the gym?"

"My date, Roberta Morrison, freaked out and ran away. I've been trying to find her."

"I've been looking for her too, but with no luck. Joan…" (Lishack realizes Joan is already gone.) "Where…?"

"She ran for the stairs, Ms Lishack."

"Stay here Mr. Beaumont, hands in the air and unmoving. The police will be jumpy when they see all of these dead bodies."

Noah, who has missed seeing the corpses in the dark, reacts… "Oh-my-God! Ms Lishack, what happened here? Ms Lishack…?"

But Lishack is gone too. A dozen flashlights suddenly shine on Noah, and he raises his hands…

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot, I'm a student!"

X X X X X

After a fast run up three flights of stairs, guided by Hester Jabert's ghost, Joan arrives at the steel door that leads to the roof. She hasn't been here since junior year when she and Adam use to make out up here. Before Bonnie… No, she must focus. The immensely evil thing behind this door is more powerful than any demon Joan has faced before. No matter how long the odds, Joan knows she must take the risk to rid the world of this monstrous being. Even now, through the steel door, Joan can feel the demon's constant emission of hate and its' glee in the pain and death it causes…

"Come to me instrument of God. I know you are there." it hisses.

Why do demons always hiss? A reminder of the snake in the garden? Focusing on her faith in God, Joan raises her silver cross and opens the door… Dennis Park would be nearly unrecognizable by those who know him. His face is distorted by a level of hate and pain that is beyond what any human was meant to endure. But it is not Dennis Park who is in control of that body. The death demon casually awaits Joan, gun at its' side and supremely confident of his ability to kill God's chosen instrument.

"Foolish child, you actually are stupid enough to face me?" the demon chortles.

"By the power of Almight God, I bind you!"

The demon laughs again. "You? Bind me?"

Joan steps closer. "By the power of Almighty God, I bind you."

Smiling, the evil thing begins to raise the pistol, but the highly trained body of Dennis Park responds with surprising slowness. The demon stops smiling.

"By the power of Almight God, I bind you."

The triple repetition has a spirtitual power of its' own, and the demon is stunned to find it can not move.

"Your faith…is strong, but neither you nor that trinket can hold me for long."

Joan knows it is true. Even now Park's hand is rising again, millimeter by millimeter. Joan's body begins to drain of all energy as her all too mortal form tries to deal with the waves of demonic force that are crashing against her soul. The demon's power and range are limited by the human casing, but Joan realizes she must wrap this up fast before the hate coming from this thing causes everyone at Arcadia High to turn on each other.

The demon snarls, "You little bitch, I will destroy you and all those you care for. I will disembowel your father, I will rape and strangle your mother, I will cause your brothers to turn on each other with knives and I will roast your baby sister alive. All those you love will die cursing your name!"

The accompanying mental images of these threats being carried out enter Joan's mind. She fears and faith recedes. Joan's hold on the demon ends.

"Yes!" the demon shouts as it raises the pistol even with Joan's head. The shot rings out…

X X X X X

Down in the quad, hiding in the bushes, Roberta Morrison remains concealed, petrified with fear. After witnessing the horrifying deaths of the law enforcement officers, Roberta cowered with her eyes closed and her hands over her ears. The trauma she has experienced makes it impossible for her to do anything but shiver…except, now new sensations are overcoming the teenaged girl. An unnatural anger rises to a level Roberta has never experienced before. The face and name of an old enemy comes to Roberta's mind, someone she hasn't thought of in a long time, and hate fills the girl's soul. Murderous thoughts become fixed in Roberta's mind. With surprising calm, Roberta stealthily crawls out of hiding and unnoticed by the distracted cops, she retrieves the last pistol. It belongs to the fallen security guard. Normally they do not carry firearms, but a supply of revolvers are kept locked away in the principal's safe for just such an emergency. Roberta returns to her hiding place, already plotting the where and when of how she will murder the man who killed her father. Will Girardi must die…

X X X X X

Back on the rooftop as the echoes of the gunshot are fading, the demon howls—experiencing physical pain for the first time in its' existence. Standing in the rooftop doorway, Elaine Lishack pauses, wondering if shooting the gun out of this man's hand is enough or should she finish him? He still has several guns tucked into his belt. Normally '66' would not hesitate like this, but it has been years since she killed anyone and she is unsure. Just as she is unsure of how she got to the rooftop. Originally Lishack intended to go to the basement where the power junctions must have been cut, but an irresistable hunch compelled her to go up…

Joan does not hesitate to take advantage of this distraction. Using the angelic fighting methods she has been taught, Joan strikes – one, two, three times. Dennis Park's body falls with two broken legs and a cracked sternum. Joan jumps onto Park, her knees landing on his chest, adding extra pain to his injuries.

"How's that for a sensation, demon?"

Joan's faith is back stronger than ever. She is God's chosen instrument. She stands in His presence, confident of the Father's love. She has been kissed on the cheek by God! What is this thing compared to that? Joan slaps the silver cross onto the demon's face and it howls with a level of pain it could not imagine.

"Death demon, by the power of Almighty God, I cast you into hell!"

It is no contest. With one last writhe of agony and a scream of despair, the vile prince of the devil's kingdom leaves Dennis Park's body and goes…down. But, a moment later a small voice whines…

"Please, please O' instrument of God, have mercy on me."

With the death demon gone, that only leaves the weak amnesia demon to deal with. Joan stands, knowing that even if Park's body wasn't heavily damaged, this demon would pose no threat to her. Joan sighs, realizing she still has a very unpleasant task ahead of her. Joan barely notices the flash of light as Hester Jabert crosses over without so much as a thank you. She addresses the amnesia demon...

"I'll give you a choice little demon. Be cast into hell or voluntarily leave this host."

In a shocked voice it replies, "Break the contract? You know I can't."

"You can on my authority."

"You…would let me go?" (The demon chuckles.) "Oh, I see. If I voluntarily leave, Dennis Park's memories will return in full, including all he has done since he has been mine."

"Choose."

"Yes, I accept! Anything other than the pit."

"Then by the power of Almighty God, I release you from this man. You are cast into the darkness."

Park's body spasms again and Joan senses the amnesia demon leaving the man.

She adds, "I warn you demon, never return to my territory. I'll know."

There is a brief moment of calm before Dennis Park begins to moan in pain from his injuries. Even more painful is the shocking memories of his horrible crimes returning to his mind…

"My God, my God, what have I done?"

Joan coldly replies, "You sold your soul to a demon for the lie of some peace of mind. Now 45 people are dead by your hand, all because you couldn't man up and face your life, soldier."

Tears fill Park's eyes. "You don't understand, I killed a child! How could I live with that?"

"It was an accident of war. Tough to face, but therapy was available. You however, were just too weak to stick with it. You wanted an easy way out of your nightmare, Dennis Park. You knew what the demon was, you knew it was evil, but still you sold your soul. You didn't care what it did as long as you found relief. You didn't care what would happen to others. Only you mattered. You pathetic little coward!"

Dennis Park sobs. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"

"Sorry won't bring back the people you murdered. Sorry won't erase the suffering of their families. And what of your family?"

"What…what do you mean?"

"Hear all of those voices down below? The cops are on the way to arrest the famous Halloween Killer. You are facing multiple trials in several states with the death penalty sure to follow. There will be years of appeals and unending headlines for more than a decade. You'll be famous, Dennis. And so will your family. From now on their lives will be hell as the media keeps going back to them trial after trial, appeal after appeal. Your parents, your wife and your children will suffer as their lives are destroyed by the never ending fame of your crimes."

Park nods, getting it. "Unless…my story is just a flash in the pan?"

"Fifteen minutes of unpleasant fame followed by the obscurity of fleeting public attention. Eventually your family will move away, change their names and be forgotten. But only if…it ends now."

Park needs no further prompting. Calmly, he removes one of the remaining pistols from his belt and raises it to his head. Joan turns away and hears the shot…

Bitterly she remarks, "Two birds with one stone."

Joan feels sick. Being able to read Park, she knew exactly which buttons to push, what combination of words and emotions that would end in this result. She may as well have pulled the trigger herself. But she could not allow Dennis Park to be captured alive. At dawn the death demon's short term contract with this human would expire, and a living Dennis Park was the demon's exit out of hell and back into this world. With Park dead, the death demon is sealed in hell forever.

As instructed, two birds with one stone. A dead serial killer to satisfy the authorities, and a powerful death demon banished until the end of time. All in exchange for the life of a man who could not live with what he had done. Joan knows the feeling. Oh God, how had her life come to this? What right did she have to decide who lived and who died? How can she keep doing this and stay sane...if she is still sane. The last time she was on this roof, in Adam's arms, she could never imagine a Joan Girardi capable of prodding a pathetic, broken man into suicide no matter how just or how necessary the cause. Overwhelmed by her feelings, Joan has become too distracted to remember Elaine Lishack.

The knock out blow comes as a complete surprise.

To Be Continued.


	4. Chapter 4

HALLOWEEN FOUR

"She's starting to stir, Chief."

Slowly, Joan becomes aware of conciousness. Her head throbs, her body is tightly confined to a chair and there is a swaying motion. Joan opens her eyes. She is bound by straps to a heavy metal chair that is bolted to the floor. The room, what she can see of it, is riveted white metal panels—a cargo van? To Joan's mind there is a familiar wooziness.

"I feel…drunk. Am I drunk?"

From behind her Elaine Lishack appears, and Joan notes the completition of attitude change. Like someone replacing a light sweater with a heavy coat, Lishack the quirky science teacher is gone and in her place is Agent 66. The 'coat' no longer is a perfect fit, but she wears it well. Her thoughts and emotions are tightly controlled, and old skills have reasserted themselves. This is a woman who can do whatever has to be done. Joan easily imagines that in her heyday, 66 was quite the irresistable force.

Joining her is an old man of about 80. He is of medium size with grey hair and is remarkably fit and spry. He burns brightly with a sense of duty that borders the fanatical, but unlike Issac B. Dunn, there is at his core a basic decency. He gives Joan a reassuring smile…

"Don't be alarmed Miss Girardi, we mean you no harm."

Joan repeats, "Am I drunk? My words aren't slurred but I feel really, really drunk."

"You're not drunk. This is a side effect of the truth serum that we gave you, Miss Girardi. Or may I call you Joan?"

"Sure, if I can have your name."

"My name is Max."

"Hello Max." Joan says as she notices the .38 caliber snub-nosed revolver under Max's jacket. Very old school, but Joan has no doubt he is deadly accurate with the old-fashioned weapon.

"My God, Max…your soul is heavily burdened. You've killed over a hundred men."

Max hesitates, looks to Elaine and receives a shrug.

"Yes Joan, in the line of duty I have had to kill a lot of very evil people. How do you know this?"

"Because I'm an instrument of God and I can read your soul… Hey, that's a secret. Why did I say that?"

Max looks to Elaine again. "Is this why you called me out of seclusion, 66? To hear the ravings of an asylum candidate?"

"Listen to her, Chief. There's something different about Joan. Try to keep an open mind. I know I am after experiencing that…supernatural evil on the roof of the school. I think Joan may have the answers you've been seeking for most of your life."

Max turns back to Joan, who looks very confused…

"I'm not suppose to tell. Don't want to go back to the funny farm. I'm not crazy! I must be drunk. And…I'm tired. It was exhausting facing that demon, but I'm tired way beyond that. I've only been at this for four years, but I am so worn out by how my life is going. When I first started working for God, I never imagined how hard my life would become. I have free will. I could quit. In fact I did for a short time, but I couldn't stay away. I do important work. Besides…how do you walk away from God? Are you sure I'm not drunk?"

"Joan, your current state of confusion is due to the drug we administered shortly before you woke up. It's a refinement of an earlier truth serum that our lab boys cooked up. You will tell the truth, as you believe it, until you fall back asleep. When you wake up, you won't remember anything that occurred during this time period. This truth serum is a remarkable breakthrough, and would you believe it works in only five seconds?"

Joan giggles. "Cow crap."

"Oh. Uh, would you believe 50 seconds?"

"Nope."

"Well, I'm not actually sure how fast it works, but it is very quick. It varies person to person."

Joan begins to cry.

Max asks with concern, "Joan, what's wrong?"

"I lost my baby."

"Baby?"

"I was in denial. I didn't want to admit I was pregnant. Not after all of that drinking I did. But down deep I knew. Jimmy, I'm so sorry. I lost our child!"

Joan begins to sob uncontrollably.

"Chief, what's happening?" Lishack asks.

"It's an unfortunate side effect of the drug. It not only releases all intellectual inhibitions, but all emotional ones as well. Uh, a little help?"

Elaine steps closer and awkwardly pats Joan on the shoulder.

"There, there. I'm sorry for this painful time, Joan."

Between sobs Joan gulps out, "The doctor says I damaged my uterine wall. The chance of me carrying another baby to full term is low. Really low."

Elaine sighs. "Chief, is this normal?"

"Like I said, it varies person to person. In some people, like your Joan, it just releases a flood of dammed up emotions."

Joan cries out, "I'm horny!"

Max and Elaine exchange a glance and then stare at Joan who blushes deeply.

"Did I say that outloud? Well, it's true. I loved Jimmy Tubbs with all my heart. He introduced me to sex, and it was great! Now he's gone and I miss him so much, but I also miss sex. Today, I was in a long car ride with this nice, cute guy and briefly…I had sexual thoughts about him. Now I feel so guilty. I'm sorry Jimmy!"

Joan resumes crying.

Max sighs. "This is useless. We're not going to get any information about my old protégé, I.B. and his plans. This poor girl is confused, grief stricken and probably a little crazy. She will tell us what she believes to be true, but what good are her delusions to us?"

"Chief, don't give up. After what I saw Joan do tonight, I know she has answers that we need. Why else would I.B. recruit an ordinary college co-ed?"

"I recruited you 66 while you were still in college. I saw your potential even at that young of an age. But this girl…?"

"On the roof, that…THING also called Joan an instrument of God. What if she really is? Try telling her your story, Chief. See if she has the answers you want - not about government agencies, but about…evil."

Joan remarks, "I know your story, Max. I.B. told me the whole tale about you two and your rogue agency. You use to head up some small, super-secret spy organization, and when it came time for your group to be decommissioned by the government, you and your people disappeared. You went rogue because you were unwilling to give up the game. And you Agent 66, who is going to kill me for saying that, you 'retired' shortly before all of that occurred. You've been living in hiding because you have so many enemies from the old days. 'Elaine Lishack' isn't even your real name. But…you have an Aunt Candace living in town. She sells cosmetics."

Lishack responds, "One of the giveaways in establishing a new identity is the lack of connections to a past, like family. Candace is in the witness protection program and we provide cover stories for each other. We've been doing this so long, I think of her as family. Aunt Candace is babysitting my daughter Emily right now."

Max says, "And for the record, my agency didn't go undercover because we were thrill junkies who couldn't give up the rush. When the Clinton administration began shutting down the smaller spy outfits at the end of the cold war, they didn't understand our mission. We weren't part of the cold war effort. Instead, we were charged with the task of stopping a vast, private criminal organization that was exploiting the cold war for profit and power."

Joan frowns. "Still the same thing. Cold war ends and your profiteers end. Hey, how do you profit from a cold war?"

Elaine answers, "There are ways. Arms deals, phony intel sold to both sides, commoditites…"

Max adds, "They once fostered a panic about a phony border war between two major oil producing nations. Before the truth could get out, they made over a billion dollars in the oil market. On more than one occasion they brought the world to the brink of nuclear war in order to increase their political influence with various nations. Those countries willingly paid through the nose and even surrendered their foreign policies to avoid a repeat."

Joan shakes her head. "That's insane. The risk isn't worth the payoff. What good is money and power if you blow up the world?"

Max replies, "And that is what has been baffling me for nearly half a century of service to my country. Near the end of the Eisenhower administration, the Soviets began accusing us of wildly provocative covert actions, and we were doing the same to them. Eventually a couple of senior agents, one from each side, got together and figured out that we were being played against each other. Out of that came the formation of our agency to combat this new threat. We regularly co-operated with the Soviets in this effort, and we were never a part of the cold war struggle."

Lishack continues, "But the threat from these criminals didn't end with the cold war. Their very adaptive organization continues to this very day. They seem fanatically dedicated to spreading hate, fear, confusion, chaos and violence. They are still finding ways to make money and gain influence through keeping as many as people as possible killing each other. Terrorism is their latest area of involvement."

Joan mutters, "A lot of terrorists are demon influenced. So, who are these criminals?"

Max replies, "They've gone by a lot of different names over the years, and they've been around a lot longer than we originally assumed. We now know they were behind that start of the first world war. How far back their organization goes we just don't know."

Joan nods. "Probably thousands of years. It sounds like they are controlled by a satanic cult."

Max dubiously asks, "Satanic cult?"

"Most likely several cults spread around the world and working in co-operation in what they think is their master's plan. You know…the devil."

Elaine asks, "Joan, are these cultists demon posessed like that man tonight?"

Joan shakes her head. "No, none of them are posessed, and most aren't even demon influenced. These nutjobs serve willingly for what they see as the winning side. The fools believe the devil will reward them for their efforts. Too bad they don't get it. Beelzebub isn't capable of gratitude. The devil can only offer the opposite of God: hate, misery and death. He…killed my Jimmy."

"How do you know all of this?" Max asks.

"My tutor told me." Joan says with a yawn.

"Tutor?"

"A 25 foot tall angel with glowing eyes and six wings. He's got a lot of attitude, but still…I kinda…like him." Joan's head drops and she snores.

Max sighs. "That's all we will get from her."

"Chief, can't we revive her and give her a second dose? There's so much Joan could tell us."

"Sorry 66, but the drug is too powerful. It has to be completely out of her system before a second dose can be risked, and that would take nearly a week. Besides, what's the point? The poor girl suffers from religious delusions, which is in her known psychiatric file. She's just a lot worse off than people think."

"No Chief, I believe what Joan was saying. You know me and my record. When I say there was true evil on that rooftop tonight, you know I'm not being hysterical or confused. I saw Joan drive a demon out of Dennis Park, and I felt how the scene became…cleaner. Less evil. Chief, think about it. All of the years we spent fighting those madmen, never understanding why they were doing the insane things they did. If Joan is right, it explains everything. The reason our enemy didn't care about the fate of the world was because they were serving the devil."

"And in all of these years, after the hundreds of enemy agents we captured and interrogated, we never even got a hint of this? That satanic cults were behind all of the chaos and death?"

"Chief, you know we never got close to any of the inner circle. Maybe the rank and file agents didn't know the brand of evil they were serving? Money and power was enough for them. But as for the leadership, that we now know stretches back over a hundred years, doesn't what Joan said make sense?"

Max hesitates. "Well...yes, in a twilight zone kind of way this would explain everything, but what good does it do us? I can't go back to the handful of loyal men I have left and tell them we are shifting our focus to hunting for pentagrams and pitchforks. They would think I had lost it. I'd be forced out - not that I'm unwilling to retire. What about it 66, ready to come back? I'd gladly turn over to you what is left of the agency."

Elaine shakes her head. "Sorry Chief, but I made my choice and I'm sticking with it. I like waking up every morning and not having the first thought of the day be: 'Will I have to kill today'?"

"I understand. Your friend Joan was right about my soul being troubled. I start every day thinking about the men I've killed and how that will affect the fate of my soul." (Looks at Joan.) "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to hire an outside consultant to research satanic cults. I once met a man at a cocktail party in London. He was a little drunk and kept going on about his job of researching ancient texts that dealt with demons and such. If he's interested, I'll offer the job to...Giles was it? Yes, that's right - Rupert Giles."

"And what of Joan?"

"We will drop her off some place safe. Her memory of the last few hours will be gone and she will feel like she has a terrible hangover..."

X X X X X

"Joan? Joan, are you okay?"

Joan moans in pain as the first thought that occurs to her is: 'Not again!' Joan's head throbs, her mouth is dry, her stomach is churning and she reeks of beer. These symptoms are all too familiar to Joan - a hangover of monumental proportions.

"Joan...?"

She opens her eyes and in the dim light she recognizes Spencer Reid.

"It's dawn?"

"The sun is just rising."

Joan looks about and recognizes her surroundings. She is flat on her back in the truck bed of her pickup. Half a dozen empty 40 ounce bottles of beer surround her.

"Oh God..."

"Joan, what happened? Where did you disappear to last night?"

Joan groans while her stomach rebels. What did happen last night? Her mind is a fog, but she knows she must deal with the here and now...

"Spencer, please, don't let my family see me like this."

Reid hesitates only a moment before lifting Joan into his arms and carrying her to the cab of the truck. Joan is impressed by the surprising strength of the thin young man, and she is deeply embarassed to see she has peed herself. Reid gently deposits Joan in the passenger seat and then gets behind the wheel. Joan hands him the keys and he quickly drives away.

Later...

Joan steps out of the motel bathroom, drying her hair with a towel. She slips into bed and Reid tucks her in like a grateful child. Joan feels a great deal of tenderness for this kind man who has helped her. After texting a reassuring message to her mother, they had checked into a national chain motel just west of the airport. Aspirin, coffee and a long shower has left Joan feeling a lot better. Her clothes were discarded, and after a quick trip to a nearby Wal-mart, Reid has supplied her with all she needs: pajamas, a new set of clothes and fresh undies. Everything is the right size, even the bra, which causes Joan to re-evaluate her opinion of Spencer Reid's success rate with women. His conquests may be few and far between, but he obviously has an eye for details.

"Feeling better?"

"Getting closer to being human again. Thank you, Spencer. I'm so glad my parents didn't see me in that condition. Not again."

"Again? Is heavy drinking a habit?"

"I had a brief period after my fiance's death when I was boozing pretty hard. After that, I swore off drinking."

"Then how do you explain getting so drunk? If you really drank six 40 ounce bottles of beer on your own...well, that is a dangerous amount of alcohol to consume in a short period of time. And yet, you don't seem to be nearly as drunk as you should be after such a night of binge drinking. Perhaps you were partying with a group?"

"I...honestly don't remember. It's all a blur. But if my drinking has reached the level of memory blackouts, then that's really scary. How did I end up in the back of my truck, and where did I get all of that beer?"

"I know that college students who are not legally old enough to drink usually have a way of getting alcohol. If you had to guess, where would you most likely get so much beer?"

Joan sighs. "There's only one spot where any co-ed can get unlimited amounts of booze and...an unexplained memory loss. Fraternity row has at least one party going on every night, and on Halloween, they were all in full party mode."

"That explains the beer... Joan, do you believe you were given a date rape drug?"

"A roofie? I thought of that. Before my shower I did a careful self-exam, and I appear to be unviolated - thank God. Maybe some guy slipped me something and his plans were interrupted? Who knows, maybe even in Fratboy Land, there exists a good samaritan. Still, I wish I knew..."

"Perhaps if I jogged your memory? Do you remember our arriving at Arcadia High?"

"Uh, yeah. The sheriff got a report about Park being in the school quad. Oh God, those poor cops that were gunned down. I should have prevented that."

"Because your...'psychic' abilities told you far more than you shared so that Homeland Security could get credit for stopping the Halloween Killer, Miss Girardi?"

Joan sighs. "We're back to 'Miss Girardi'? Spencer, I'm sorry for the poor impression I've made, and for the more than a few lies I had to tell you. I wish I could explain..."

"National security. Got it."

"Please don't be that way, Spencer. I thought we were getting friendly. After all, it's not every guy I allow to buy me underwear." Joan says with a weak smile.

Reid smiles back, still feeling the attraction he has for Joan. "I suppose we could declare a clean slate and start all over again."

"A clean slate - like my memory... Wait, I seem to remember being on the roof."

"With Dennis Park? That's where we found his body after his suicide."

Joan absorbs Reid's words. Yes, she is almost certain she confronted the death demon on the roof of the school. Did she win? Well duh, obviously she won or she wouldn't still be alive. But then...?

"Joan, are you remembering something?"

"Just fragments. I don't remember what happened on the roof, and after that it's all a blank." Joan says as she wonders if after her 'victory', she went out to celebrate? It seems so unlikely, but what other explanation can there be?

"Joan, you look exhausted. I'll let you get some sleep while I work on my action report. I'm not sure how I'll phrase it and still stay within Homeland Security's secrecy guidelines."

"Look at it as a way to stretch your creative juices." (Joan yawns.) "I hope my snoring doesn't disturb your your work."

"I hope my work doesn't disturb your...sleeping."

Reid steps closer and turns off the bedside lamp. He smiles and Joan notices that it is a cute smile. Impulsively, Joan grabs his tie and pulls Reid closer...

"Thank you, Spencer."

They kiss.

THE END.

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